Cruel Mercy
by Celtic Celia
Summary: Hannah told the stories to the children, never realizing that someone else was listening. HookOFC Please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: Ahoy there me hearties!!! I you enjoy this story because I'm very excited about it. Hopefully I'll be able to be consistent with updates and at the same time continue on with my Labyrinth fic "No Apologies," which unfortunately has not yet recovered from a creative barrier that I am inches away from tearing down. Please be patient and review if the spirit moves you.  
  
Disclaimer: If you don't recognize the name, then it's most likely mine. Neverland and all of it citizens belong to J.M. Barrie, although I truly wish Hook would run away to my world, wink wink.  
  
Chapter One:  
  
Hannah Jacobs eased into the rocking chair beside the nursery window and gazed out at the night sky. The chimneys of the countless London homes pointed up at the heavens where the stars guided the way to new and unknown worlds. A sigh of relief escaped the young woman's lips as she savored this moment she had to herself, a moment that for once was not devoted to amusing her two young charges.  
  
Lydia and Abigail were the two young daughters of Henry and Elizabeth Whitmore. Henry was a well-respected and successful barrister and his wife Elizabeth was a permanent fixture in the best London social circles. Their fortunate position in society required the happy couple to constantly make appearances at dinners, balls, and operas and these necessary absences from home inevitably led to the necessity of hiring a nanny to care for their daughters.  
  
So it was that Hannah, after being highly recommended by her former employer, came to reside at the Whitmore home. It was apparent after her arrival that Lady Havisham's praises were in no way unfounded, for while she made certain that her charges behaved, she clearly understood that children will be children and thus was never too harsh in any scolding or punishment. Lydia and Abigail, ages six and seven, respectively, were drawn to her friendly manner and her willingness to play, but there was one talent that truly endeared her to them and that was her storytelling. Night after night, the Whitmore daughters would sit in rapt attention as Hannah spun magical tales of chivalrous knights, cunning princesses, and strange beasts, both good and evil. She would then tuck them into their beds and sing them to sleep, wishing every time that their heads would be filled with happy dreams and that the nightmares would not taint the girls' sleep.  
  
"Hannah! Hannah!" the excited cries of the young girls and the clamor they created as they ran up the stairs effectively brought Hannah out of her peaceful reverie.  
  
"Ah there you are my little pixies! To think I thought you had grown too old for my stories and were out searching for handsome young men," she said with an overly dramatic sigh of sadness.  
  
Abigail wrinkled her nose, "Boys are silly," she pronounced in a serious tone.  
  
Lydia nodded in agreement, "We would never leave you for silly boys, Hannah!" she cried out in earnest.  
  
Hannah smiled as she reached down to ruffle their curly blonde ringlets. "Your loyalty is very touching, my pixies. Now, what story shall I tell you tonight?"  
  
The girls looked at each other and took a moment to debate over what story to request in whispered tones before cheering exuberantly, "Little Red Riding Hood!"  
  
"Are you sure you won't be too scared if I tell you that tale?" she asked with a grin, knowing full well it was one of their favorites.  
  
"We promise that we won't be scared!" cried the girls.  
  
"Well alright," she relented with a wink. "Once upon a time there was a little girl, who was loved by all that knew her..." and with that her magical words captured the girls' imaginations. They hung on her every word and gasped when the Wolf revealed himself to Red Riding Hood, as though they had never heard the tale before, and cheered happily when the woodsman cut off the wicked wolf's head.  
  
After the story ended, Lydia tried in vain to suppress a yawn, which alerted Hannah that it was time yet again to place the children in their beds. The girls knew by now that resistance was futile, so they allowed her to lead them to their beds without a fuss. Hannah carefully arranged the covers around them and placed a kiss on each forehead before returning to the rocking chair where she proceeded to sing softly, her voice heard only by the girls, who were drifting fast asleep, and the stars that shone down through the open window.  
  
"Sleep my love, and peace attend thee  
  
All through the night;  
  
Guardian angels God will lend thee,  
  
All through the night,  
  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
  
Hill and vale in slumber steeping,  
  
I my loving vigil keeping,  
  
All through the night.  
  
Angels watching ever round thee,  
  
All through the night,  
  
In thy slumbers close surround thee,  
  
All through the night,  
  
They should of all fears disarm thee,  
  
No forebodings should alarm thee,  
  
They will let no peril harm thee,  
  
All through the night."  
  
As her song reached its end, the only sound Hannah heard was the steady breathing of the girls, a sign that sleep had claimed them. With a sigh, she rose from her chair and lowered the lamps that lit the nursery. After looking over her shoulder at their sleeping forms, she whispered, "Good night, my pixies," and closed the door.

Hannah's hands slowly unwound her long braid of auburn. Reaching for the brush, she found herself thinking of the conversation she had held with Mrs. Whitmore the day before.  
  
"My dear Hannah," the lady had said softly, "Although Henry and I are more than satisfied with your work and wish for you to stay with this family as long as possible, we are concerned about your future."  
  
Hannah lowered her cup of tea and gave Mrs. Whitmore a puzzled look, "What reason is there for concern, Mistress Whitmore?"  
  
"Well my dear girl, you just recently celebrated your twenty-second birthday, if I am not mistaken."  
  
Wondering where this was leading, Hannah simply nodded.  
  
"The reason I mention this is that I am concerned you have not yet considered the prospect of marriage."  
  
Hannah's eyes widened slightly at this statement. While it was true that she had not given much thought to marriage, she felt she still had time to spare before entering such a union.  
  
"And while you are a clever girl with a steady position, I fear you may find it difficult to secure a husband if you wait too long."  
  
"I thank you for the advice, Madam. You are correct in your assumption that I have not thought much on the subject of marriage. I suppose I felt there was plenty of time for such matters to be dealt with in due course."  
  
Mrs. Whitmore smiled, "You are a handsome young woman, Hannah, and I am certain that once you place yourself in the view more men you will have little trouble in finding the right man." The conversation had continued on, with Mrs. Whitmore urging Hannah to attend the church socials more frequently and to perhaps consider paying a bit more attention to her wardrobe.

Hannah sighed as she turned down the covers of her bed. Though she wouldn't say it to Mrs. Whitmore, she inwardly confessed that she held no love for large social gatherings and the idea of attending them in hopes of catching the eye of eligible strangers frightened her. 'Why must I search for a husband at all?' she mused. 'Why can't I just stay with my girls in this house and watch them grow into charming young ladies?' The voice of reason answered, 'Because they are not your girls. You are a paid employee, not a mother and when the girls are grown, your place in this home will no longer exist.' Hannah's heart saddened at this realization and as she blew out the candle on her bedside table, she felt terribly alone and concerned over what was to become of her life.


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! I promise we're getting closer to the introduction of our dear captain...in fact I feel his hook at my throat this very moment! Sighs, how delightful! Please read and review and have a jolly good time!

Disclaimer: If I owned Neverland and Hook, would I need to write a disclaimer? Probably not. Hannah is my original character, as are Becky and Mr. Bunbury, although the term "Bunbury" belongs to the late great Oscar Wilde. The song used in this chapter is called 'The Unquiet Grave."

Chapter Two:

"Where are you?" she whispered, not knowing whom it was she was searching for in the mists. A sudden snapping of brush close by fed her growing fears and she blindly began to run in terror. She stretched her hands out in front of her, seeking the one who could save her. Unseen fingers snatched at her nightgown and she shrieked as she quickly veered to the left to shake their grasp. Just then, her scream died in her throat as her feet found no ground beneath them and her body began its rapid plummet into the misty void below.

The wind rushed around her and she raised a silent prayer for someone to save her. Her eyes closed in resignation as the hope to see another day died within her. Had her eyes remained open, they would have glimpsed the shadowy hand that stretched forth and seized her arm, bringing her to a jarring halt in midair.

Blue fire, the center of a flame that burned feverishly at the core of two shells of ice met her wide-eyed stare. The contrast was beautiful, but haunting at the same time and she found herself entranced in the depths of his gaze.

Whispered words floated to her ears from her savior, but she was unable to shake free of the spell and comprehend their meaning.

He pulled her closer to him and slowly his lips descended on her slightly parted ones. Her free hand ventured forward in an attempt to grip his right hand, but in their search for a solid hand, her fingers encountered cold steel.

As her hand jerked away in reflex to the strange appendage, her thumb was pricked by its sharp point. The sudden pain shook her from her trance and she lifted her hand to her eyes, looking forlornly at the blood that beaded on the surface. Her eyes returned to those of her rescuer and she caught a flicker of remorse in his countenance before he lowered his lids. The grip of his left hand on her arm loosened and her mouth opened, a silent scream echoed in her mind as she slid through his grasp and plunged into the abyss.

Hannah shot up straight in her bed, gasping for breath. Her eyes darted about the room and she made an effort to calm her rapidly beating her with a few deep breaths. "It was only a dream," she whispered to herself as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her face flushed when she remembered how close his lips had been to hers, how his breath had caressed her skin. "How silly am I?" she asked derisively to no one in particular. "I must be mad getting so stirred up over a mere vision."

While logic told her she was being ridiculous, as she laid her head back on the pillow, she could not shake the image of frosted and fiery eyes, staring unabashedly into hers.

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The rest of the week passed without event and though she could think of no logical reason for her to worry, Hannah found herself keeping an especially close watch over the children. And every time she blew out her candle in the evening, Hannah would whisper to herself that there was nothing to fear in the darkness of her room.

However, on Saturday, Hannah realized that she would that very day have to face a very real, tangible fear, for that afternoon she would have to go to her church picnic that Mrs. Whitmore had urged her to attend.

She distracted herself for as long as possible, playing with the children and mending Lydia's rag doll, whose arm had been nobly sacrificed in a game of tug-o-war. Hannah even entertained the idea of coming down suddenly with a most dreadful headache, but that thought vanished as soon as her cousin Becky appeared in the nursery and insisted on helping her decide what to wear for the outing.

"I'm not certain that I care to know how you found out I was going to the picnic," sighed Hannah in defeat as she was pulled into her room.

"Well," Becky replied, "Imagine my surprise when that dashing driver of Mr. Whitmore's appeared at the back step two nights ago with a letter from your mistress, requesting that I be your chaperone for a Sunday outing."

"Mrs. Whitmore needs a new hobby," Becky replied dryly.

"Your mistress has a good head on her shoulders," scolded Becky at she handed her a simple white dress, "Wear this one. Why, how many times have I asked you to come to a social only to have you turn down the offer? You'll never find a husband if you hide yourself away," she chided.

This verbal bombardment concerning Hannah's lack of a husband lasted for another half hour and resulted in Hannah's wish that she had no living kin. When they arrived at the picnic, Becky ran off to flirt with two freckled and flame-haired twins, while Hannah contented herself by sitting alone beneath an oak and gazing at the merriment. Within a few moments, she found herself lost in thoughts of a certain pair of blue eyes.

"I take it you are not fond of socializing?" a clear voice questioned, bringing Hannah back down to Earth.

"Oh," she stammered slightly, a blush rising to her cheeks. "I'm just not used to being around so many strangers."

"I confess, these kind of gatherings are not really to my liking either," the stranger replied before offering his hand, "My name is Robert, Robert Bunbury."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Bunbury, my name is Hannah Jacobs."

"The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure." With that he sat beside her and they fell into polite conversation, during which Hannah learned he was a valet in the home of Colonel Winston. As he told her a story of a run in with the house's irate French cook Jacques, she studied his face.

He had a somewhat serious look about that betrayed a certain lack of humor as he talked to her and a pair of clear green eyes. His nose was too narrow and long to be considered handsome, but for some reason she found it suited him well. His best feature was his wavy brown hair that looked quite soft.

Mr. Bunbury took a moment to contemplate Hannah's person before observing, "Your hair is the most astonishing shade of red, Miss Jacobs."

Slightly confused, Hannah nodded, "Yes, it comes from my mother's side of the family."

"From whereabouts does your family hail, if I may inquire?"

"My mother was full-blooded Irish, her family lived in County Cork before she moved to London and married my father, who was an English tailor."

"Indeed?" he mused, "You do not have an accent, though."

"Oh, I do," she said softly, "But it normally comes out when I'm nervous or upset."

"I see," he said with a nod. "It is for the best I suppose, considering that it is harder to obtain a situation with a thick brogue, I suspect."

Something in the way he said this grated on Hannah's nerves. There was something condescending in his tone that had not been apparent earlier. She asked him a question about his position and he immediately launched into a detailed description of his duties, which sadly was rather dull.

Some time later, when Becky resurfaced to collect her cousin, Mr. Bunbury requested that he be allowed to call on Hannah at the Whitmore home. Before she could consider her response, Becky interrupted and accepted on behalf of her silent and annoyed kinswoman. Mr. Bunbury smiled confidently then and bowed before leaving the two ladies.

"You sly thing," Becky laughed as she hugged Hannah around the shoulders. "To think I was worried you were all alone and the whole time you've sat and talked with one man. He was very attentive to you Hannah, I hope you were polite."

"Have I ever given you reason to suspect my manners, cousin?" Hannah asked coolly.

"Don't change the subject," Becky scolded. "Now tell me all about your new beau," she ordered in an excited tone.

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That same evening, Hannah changed into her nightgown and stood at the window gazing up at the sky. She slowly hummed a tune while she untied the ribbon that held her hair into one long plait. Hannah sat on the edge of her bed and sang to the open window as she combed her long auburn tresses.

**"Cold blows the wind to my true love,**  
**And gently drops the rain.**  
**I've never had but one true love,**  
**And in green-wood he lies slain.**  
  
**I'll do as much for my true love,**  
**As any young girl may,**  
**I'll sit and mourn all on his grave,**  
**For twelve months and a day.**  
  
**And when twelve months and a day was passed,**  
**The ghost did rise and speak,**  
**Why sittest thou all on my grave**  
**And will no let me sleep?**  
  
**Go fetch me water from the desert,**  
**And blood from out the stone,**  
**Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast**  
**That young man never has known.**  
  
**My breast is cold as clay,**  
**My breath is earthly strong,**  
**And if you kiss my cold clay lips,**  
**Your days they won't be long.**  
  
**How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart,**  
**Where we were want to walk,**  
**The fairest flower that e'er I saw**  
**Has withered to a stalk.**

**When will we meet again, sweetheart,**  
**When will we meet again?"**  
**When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees**  
**Are green and spring up again."**

**As the song ended, Hannah felt a cool breeze float in through the window and she shivered. Her hand stretched out to close the window, but froze as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She spun around, to face an empty room.**

**Just then a hand clamped down over her mouth and Hannah let out a muffled shriek. As she was dragged backwards toward the open window, Hannah struggled to free herself, to the amusement of her captor.**

**"Aroon, aroon, hush now my bonny songbird," a velvety voice crooned softly in her ear. His words continued to spin a thick web in Hannah's mind and she slumped against a warm body, unable to fight the darkness that descended over her.**


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** To my lovely and beautiful reviewers...I thank you, most humbly for your reviews. They make me oh so happy...sigh. Almost as happy as I would be if Hook appeared in my room on a moonlit night...almost....well you know...ahem. ;) Anyways, enjoy this chapter!  
  
**Disclaimer:** You know the rules. I don't own Neverland, Hook (sad face), or any other citizens of said world located second star to the right and straight on til morning! I do own Hannah and any characters you don't recognize, so there is cheer in that thought! :)  
  
**Chapter Three:**

As a man born into the dark side of a world of fantasy and dreams, Captain James Hook understood all too well the signs of a nightmare-riddled sleep. Casually, he leaned back in his chair and studied the young lady in his bed.

Her skin was pale as snow and if it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest, he might have doubted that she had survived the journey. The most appealing feature he could discern was the waves of auburn tresses that flowed from her head across the pillow. When he'd held her earlier, his fingers had curled around a lock, and he took a moment to savor the soft touch.

Hook sighed after he tossed back a brandy. He doubted that his newly acquired treasure would readily accept such tender caresses once she awoke. He smirked at that thought, for he knew he was more than ready to tame the lady, should that red hair prove to be any indication of her temper.

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Hannah let out a soft yawn as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 'The girls will be needing me to wake them up, of course,' she mused as she stepped out of bed. As her sleepy eyes started to adjust to the light, the floor beneath her feet rolled forward and she found herself sprawled on the floor.

Confusion gave way to a wave of fear as she heard a low chuckle from behind her. Before she could move, Hannah yelped as the back of her nightgown was seized and she was yanked up into a pair of strong arms.

Shutting her eyes tight, Hannah whispered franticly, "Tis but a dream, no harm will come to me!"

Again the low chuckle sounded, the vibrations of the man's chest sending shivers down her spine, "Come now, my dear, surely this" he paused as he gently caressed her cheek with a cruel-looking hook, "Is not the stuff that your maidenly dreams are made of?" He smiled wickedly then, "Or is it?" he mused aloud as his fingertips traced lazy circles around her breasts through the concealing fabric of her nightgown.

Hannah felt torn between weeping and screaming bloody murder. With shuddering breaths, she spoke, "If this is not a dream, sir, will you please reveal your identity?"

Hook smiled and obligingly turned her around to face him, pleased when her eyes widened in recognition. Taking a step back, he bowed deeply, "Captain James Hook, my dear."

She stammered, "You're the man I dreamt of...the hook," she paled and stepped backward.

"Yes, I'm glad to see I've not left your thoughts," Hook advanced on her slowly.

"What do you want with me?" she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for a way to escape.

Hook took a moment to feign deep contemplation, "There are so many things," he mused aloud.

"Please let me go," she whispered.

"Why would I do that, my dear, when I've taken the trouble to bring you all the way here? Besides, even if I wanted to return you, I'm afraid it would be quite impossible."

Hannah steeled herself and said defiantly, "You cannot keep me here, sir."

Hook raised an eyebrow, "Indeed? What makes you so certain?" he moved closer and brushed a lock of her hair back with his hook.

Without missing a beat, Hannah hissed, "Simply this, I won't allow it!" She kicked him swiftly in the shins and dodged his grasp, running desperately for the cabin door. She wrenched the door open and ran straight ahead, focusing only on escaping the cabin, and not on what or rather who lay ahead.

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Starkey threw down his hand of cards in anger, "Why do I always lose?"

Noodler shrugged as he rake in the pool of money, "Perhaps the fact that yer lousy at cards has something to do with it."

Starkey was about to snarl a reply when a movement caught his eye.

Noodler followed his gaze and gasped, "Look there...it's a...a..."

"A lady," whispered Starkey. With lightening speed he bounded forward and snatched the startled Hannah to his chest. This of course, drew the attention of the rest of the crew who began hovering around the two with greedy interest. Starkey withdrew a knife and held it out threateningly as he glared down his fellow pirates.

One-eyed Finn called out angrily, "Come on now, Starkey, ye can't have her to yerself!" The crew yelled at him in agreement.

Starkey shook the knife at them, "Nobody move, I seen her first! I claim her as my mother!"

'His mother? What in Heaven's name does he mean by that?' Hannah thought, wildly confused and afraid as she faced the pirate crew.

Just then a gunshot was fired and all heads turned to see none other than Mr. Smee brandishing the gun. "Now, now, gents calm yourselves down. We are after all in the presence of a lady." He turned to Hannah and smiled cheerfully, "Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, miss."

Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but her response was cut off by the sound of the door to the captain's chambers slamming back on its hinges.

Captain Hook strode powerfully to Mr. Smee's side and gazed disdainfully at the crew. "Mr. Smee."

"Yes captain?"

"Escort Miss Jacobs to her chambers."

"Right away, sir," the cheerful Irishman replied as he took Hannah's arm. He paused a moment, "Captain, where are her chambers, exactly?"

Hook smiled cruelly at Hannah's angry eyes, "Place her in the room adjoining mine, unless she decides to make another foolish attempt at escape. If she does, the lady will be spending her nights in the brig." He winked at Hannah, "With the rats."

"Come along now, miss," Smee said gently as he pulled her towards the cabin.

Hannah turned her eyes away from Hook's superior gaze and walked silently with Smee to the cabin. The only thing she felt thankful for at the moment was that Hook could not see the silent tears that were sliding down her cheeks.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:**

Celia reclines in her fluffy bed and smiles lasciviously as James Hook walks into the room wearing a black smoking jacket. She offers him a strawberry dipped in melted chocolate and...Arrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Why did you have to wake me up you stupid alarm clock?!?!?!?!?!?!? Ahem. So, as you can see...Hook doesn't sob belong to me...except in my twisted mind...hehe!!!

**Author's Note:**

Hmm...I maybe I shouldn't have started this story because I'm always tempted to work on it during my math class...and I have these terrible visions of my professor somehow catching a glimpse of my notebook and well...let's just say that would be uncomfortable. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thanks so much to my amazing and splendiferous readers (and of course reviewers) you warm my heart! Throws kisses

**Chapter Four:**

"If it is any consolation Miss," offered Smee in a gentle tone before he shut the door, "To my knowledge the Captain has never killed a lady." Seeing the woman's face grow paler (if that was possible), Smee lowered his gaze in pity and shut the door, giving a heavy sigh as he turned the key in the lock. 'Poor thing,' Smee thought sadly as he shuffled out of the room. 'I hope the Captain isn't too hard on her."

Now that she was alone Hannah began to search the small room for any means of escape. Other than the locked door to Hook's cabin, the only possible exit was a small window; unfortunately so small that it would only allow a small child to pass through it. A quick glance around the room revealed a small bunk with a pillow and blanket, a water pitcher, and a chamber pot. The rocking of the floor beneath her feet caused Hannah's stomach to roll and she clutched the chamber pot to her chest with the grave utterance, "I believe I'm going to be sick."

Moments later when the rocking eased a bit, Hannah sighed as she climbed into the bunk. With shaking hands she pulled the blanket over her weary body and tried to make sense of the situation she was in. 'I am no longer in London, obviously,' she noted helplessly. 'I am locked in a room on a pirate ship in God knows where...and the captain of the ship is...' she struggled to find a word to describe the man, 'Horrid,' she concluded. Hannah's eyes closed and she gave a desperate wish that when her eyes opened, she'd find herself in her room adjoining the nursery. Sleep claimed her and the merciful sandman banished the nightmares from her mind.

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He enjoyed watching her sleep. The steady rise and fall of her chest and the soft breaths that escaped from her parted lips eased his mind. Surprisingly, though pleasing, was the absence of the tracks of nightmares on her face. However, pleased as Hook may have been at the sight of Hannah's peaceful countenance, he did not delude himself into thinking it would last. Clearly the lady was terrified of him, as was to be expected. He sighed in remembrance of the morning and shook his head. 'Perhaps, it was not the best approach,' he reasoned. An uncomfortable and unfamiliar twinge of guilt echoed in his heart and had it been in his ability he would have done something to erase it. But Hook knew no other way. He was too accustomed to getting his way, without consideration of anyone else's wishes. And as he stared down at her, Hook felt an overwhelming sense of possession overtake him. "I will have her," he whispered resolutely, "By hook or by crook."

As her eyelids fluttered open, James leaned back against the wall and assumed a condescending gaze. For a moment Hannah simply stared at him, moving only to pull her blankets closer to her chin.

It was very foolish, your attempt to run away this morning, my dear," he drawled slowly with a frown.

Hannah met his gaze and asked calmly, "What would you have done if you had been in the same situation, Captain?"

He smirked at the question, "I would have gutted the fool who tried to imprison me."

She sighed in annoyance, "And if you woke up in a strange place with no weapons?"

He contemplated her query for a moment, inwardly congratulating her nerve to question him, "Your point is made, my dear, but you may not find it in your best interest to question those who control your fate."

Trying to control a growing temper Hannah schooled her features into what she hoped was a meek and timid exterior. "Captain Hook," she whispered, her eyes lowered submissively, "May I ask you a question, please?"

Hook raised an eyebrow at this display, 'A pretty act, but I doubt she's truly so obedient.' He smiled in amusement. "You may."

"Where are we Captain?"

"Ah where indeed? Neverland, a place of dreams and yet..." he paused and looked at his hook, "As real as the air you breathe."

Seeing her confused expression, he sighed and said, "Understanding of the place will come in time. Meanwhile, ask me another question, Hannah," he whispered smoothly, "You have such a pretty pleading look in your eyes when you question me."

Hannah warily moved her hand, which was in the path of Hook's creeping one. "Very well," she said softly, "Why have you brought me here?"

James moved closer to Hannah, who tried to move backwards, but hit the wall of the bunk. Swiftly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Clutching her trembling form to his chest, he began to speak softly in her ear. "One evening, as I was standing watch at the helm, I heard a voice calling to me. Then, inexplicably, a strange sensation overcame me and I knew I had to go ashore. When my rowboat reached the shore I walked, driven, through the forest until I came upon a cave." He paused and ran his hand through her hair, enjoying the soft touch and ignoring the shivers that coursed through the woman's body at his touch. He continued, "As I passed through the cave I saw a light and eventually the light grew so powerful that I could no longer see."

Hannah, though frightened, felt the need to hear the rest of his tale. "And then?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

"I stood on a ledge, looking down on a city of lights. There were buildings as far as my eye could see, reaching higher in the sky than I ever imagined buildings could climb. And then I heard a voice, coming from the window above me."

Her eyes widened at this pronouncement, 'Surely,' she thought, 'This cannot be possible, what he's suggesting.'

"Your voice, Hannah," he continued, "Ensnared my attention, as it did the two young girls in that room. And when you sang them to sleep, I made my decision to take you."

Hannah attempted once more to escape Hook's grip, only to be turned around in his lap, so they were face to face. "Why did you take me?" she said through clenched teeth.

He smiled darkly then. "Because I desired you, dear Hannah, and I'm accustomed to taking the things I want." Hook then moved to steal a kiss, but was thwarted when she quickly turned her head. He growled lowly, "Why are you delaying the inevitable, woman?" He grabbed the back of her head and turned it so he could see her face, shocked when her hand darted up and collided with his cheek.

Hannah used his surprise to push off his lap onto the floor. Backing into a corner, she raised her fists and cried out bitterly, "You may be used to taking things that you want, Captain, but let me tell you right now that the only way you can take what you want from me is by force. And if you fancy losing an eye to match your shiny claw, then give me your best try!"

Hook stood up and walked towards Hannah and paused. "And what makes you think I can't throw you on that bed right now and take what I want?"

She stiffened and lowered her voice, "You can try. But I prefer to hold onto the hope that you're a better man than that."

Hook cursed under his breath and turned to unlock the door, storming out and slamming it shut.

Hannah sank down to the floor and held her head between her hands. She couldn't help but wonder what her brave show would lead to. "I must find a way to escape," she whispered.

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't worry...Hook isn't going to be a complete bastard for the whole story. He's just a little set in his ways. Leave a review if the spirit moves you! Love and graham crackers to everyone!


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer**: Ahoy there, fellow pirate lovers! Alas, Neverland and all of its denizens do not belong to me. However, if you see a name you don't recognize, 'tis mine! The part of the song used in this chapter comes from the old sea shanty "The Pirate Song." Gotta love those sea shanties. Gar.

**Chapter Five**:

The more that Hannah thought about her situation, the more she regretted angering the Captain, though it had been very necessary at the time. She realized that escape would be a more likely option if she were not constantly at odds with Captain Hook. And while she certainly couldn't allow him to abuse her, she reasoned that she could assume a more submissive and sweet demeanor while near him, if only to lull him into a false sense of complete control. Hannah smiled the happy, secretive grin of those who have a silent plan of action.

Smee had come to see her a few moments ago, inquiring as to the state of her appetite. The slightly nervous tone behind his words led Hannah to wonder if he was going against Hook's orders and not wanting to place the kind old man or herself in the path of danger quietly thanked him, but declined the offer. Smee looked appraisingly at the young woman and whispered that he would try to find some clothing for her to wear. She thanked him again, happy that she appeared to have at least one friend on this ship.

"Smee!" bellowed Hook from his place at the helm.

Smee came running up the steps, "Yes, Captain?"

"I'm placing you in charge of caring for our newest passenger. It won't do to have her dying of starvation, will it?"

Concealing his pleasure, Smee shook his head, "No indeed, Captain."

"Not that the wench deserves such kindness. I ought to toss her overboard for being such a troublesome little hellion. Mind you watch yourself when in her midst, Smee. She may try to put your eye out or attempt some other painful injury."

"Truly Captain? Well I almost find that hard to imagine. She seems such a sweet young thing."

Hook laughed, "Oh don't let her looks fool you. That red hair of hers does not lie."

"Then I will be careful, Captain." Sensing that the man had a lot on his mind, Smee asked him if there was anything else he wished to speak of.

Hook sighed and looked off into the horizon before shaking his head. "No, Smee, that will be all." As the first mate walked away, Hook began to think about the last thing Hannah had said before he left the room. 'I prefer to hold onto the hope that you're a better man than that.'

He was not an innocent man. He'd killed, stolen, and done several other unseemly things. But James did pride himself on the fact that he was a man of his word and also that he'd never taken a woman against her will. He had seduced them of course and used them without any intentions of making honest women of them. But also, he had never misled a wench by filling her head with empty promises of matrimony. So at least in some aspects of his life there was honor.

'On that account the lass has nothing to fear from me,' he mused. 'Not that this changes the fact that I intend to have her.' Hook smiled, already silently planning how he would gain the woman's charms. Patience was the key, he decided. Fortunately, this was a virtue that he had abundant quantities of when in search of something he desired. Cheered by the pleasant task ahead of him, Hook sang a tune in amusement as he navigated the shimmering waters.

"_My boat's by the tower, and my bark's on the bay,_

_And both must be gone at the dawn of the day._

_The moon's in her shroud, and to light thee afar_

_On the deck of the daring's a love lighted star._

_So wake, lassie wake, I am waiting for thee,_

_Oh, this night or never my love thou shalt be,_

_So wake, lassie wake, I am waiting for thee,_

_Oh, this night or never my love thou shalt be,_

_So forgive me my rough mood unaccustomed to sue;_

_I woo not, perhaps, as your landlubbers do._

_My voice is attuned to the sound of the gun_

_That startles the deep when the combat's begun._

_So wake, lassie wake, I am waiting for thee,_

_Oh, this night or never my love thou shalt be,_

_So wake, lassie wake, I am waiting for thee,_

_Oh, this night or never my love thou shalt be"_

* * *

Hannah was surprised when Smee, for the second time that morning appeared at her door. This time though, he ushered her out of her room and into the Captain's more spacious quarters.

Noting her wary scan of the room, Smee chuckled, "Don't worry miss, the Captain is busy steering the ship. And he has given me the task of seeing to your needs." Just then, the door opened and Noodler and Starkey walked in, each carry two large buckets of steaming water.

Smee nodded in approval as they set the buckets down. "That'll do men. Carry on."

The two pirates nodded and made their way out of the cabin, Starkey pausing and giving Hannah a shy wave.

"Mr. Smee," Hannah began as the door was shut, "I've been meaning to ask you, that man who just waved at me…"

"Starkey," Smee supplied as he pulled a screen away, revealing a bathing vessel, which he began to fill with the water.

"Yes, I was only wondering why he said that he claimed me as his 'mother' yesterday?" She took the soap and towel that he handed her and stood by the tub, waiting patiently as he pulled the screen back in front of it.

"Well, Miss Hannah," Smee replied as he busied himself with changing the Captain's bed linens. "To explain that, I'll have to tell you a story."

"Please do, Mr. Smee," Hannah encouraged as she eased herself into the blessed heat of the water. If Smee hadn't been present, she doubted she would have dared undress herself in Hook's quarters. However, she trusted Smee and was thankful for the opportunity to get clean.

As she scrubbed herself clean, Hannah listened in awe as Smee told wondrous tales of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. She interrupted him occasionally to ask him questions, particularly about his opinions on the feud between Hook and the boy.

"Surely, Mr. Smee, you see something wrong in this fight between a boy and a full grown man?"

"Well miss, things are not as they in Neverland as they are in your world, I suppose," he conceded. "But you must admit that Peter Pan is no ordinary boy, incapable of defending himself."

"I see your point. Please do continue."

And continue he did, telling of the time when Peter had brought a young girl named Wendy and her brothers to Neverland. Hannah could sense a strong undercurrent of happiness when he recounted Wendy's brief stay on the ship and how the pirates had loved to hear her tell stories.

"So you see, Miss Hannah, Starkey and several other members of the crew have missed the young girl they called 'Mother.' Although, as you are a bit older than Miss Wendy, some of the men have," He paused, "Different attitudes toward you." As if sensing her concern, he quickly assured her that she was quite safe on that account.

'Safe from all the men, with the exception of the Captain,' she mused silently.

"And that is, for the most part, everything you need to know about what has happened up until now," Smee concluded.

Hannah finished drying herself off before wrapping herself in a large robe Smee had hung over the screen. "Thank you, Mr. Smee, for being so kind," she said gently as she emerged.

Smee blushed, "Oh, it's a pleasure, miss. Now you stay put, and I'll be back with some of the clothes I found in the hull." The kind man hurried off, leaving Hannah alone in Hook's quarters.

She slowly began exploring the space, running her fingertips over the surfaces and examining objects she encountered. The detailed maps strewn about his desk were studied carefully, particularly the ones that pointed out some of the various hideouts of the infamous Peter Pan. In one corner she found an unlocked chest, which contained several weapons. Hannah looked around cautiously before snatching up a small dagger that she was certain would not be missed. She dashed to her small room and hid it the linens of her bed. Fearful that she would be discovered, she shut the lid of the chest and perched patiently on the bench of Hook's pianoforte. Hannah tried to calm her nerves while she sat, for she didn't want Smee to suspect anything, for although he was a kindly man, she knew his first allegiance was to Hook.

While she sat there, Hannah eyed the instrument, which was fine indeed. As she gently touched the ivory keys, she wondered if the Captain was an accomplished player. He did not seem to be the type of man who would have a piano just for show, as many of her employers' acquaintances did. She found herself wishing that, under better circumstances, she could hear the Captain play.

Hannah smiled as she remembered singing to Lydia and Abigail when they grew weary of their piano lessons with their demanding teacher, Miss Dunn. She too, had learned from the lessons, enough to adequately accompany the songs she'd kept safe in her heart, since she was a small child at her mother's knee. Hannah hummed softly and began drawing music from the previously silent instrument. A tune surfaced in her mind and she closed her eyes as she started to sing.

"_Over in Killarney, __  
__Many years ago, __  
__My mother sang a song to me__  
__In tones so sweet and low.__  
_

_Just a simple little ditty,__  
__In her good old Irish way,__  
__And I'd give the world if she could sing__  
__That song to me this day._

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,__  
__Too-ra-loo-ra-li,__  
__Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,__  
__Hush, now don't you cry!__  
_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,__  
__Too-ra-loo-ra-li,__  
__Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,__  
__That's an Irish lullaby._

Hannah was startled out of singing by a deep voice calling "Bravo" from the doorway. She whirled around and stared at Hook, who was eyeing her with great interest.

He had assumed that the lady was in her chambers and had returned to retrieve his captain's log from the drawer of his desk. Hook was pleasantly surprised to find her playing the piano and singing one of his personal favorite songs. Admittedly, he was even more pleased at the sight of her wearing his favorite smoking jacket, her face framed by tendrils of damp auburn hair. Hook glanced at the bathing vessel and cursed himself for not arriving sooner.

Hook smirked, "I see you are making yourself at home. And I must say, that jacket is even more fetching than your nightgown."

At these words, Hannah blushed and drew the sides of the too large robe closed, causing Hook to chuckle. She stood and stepped backwards toward her room.

"Leaving so soon?" he inquired, a disappointed look on his face.

Hannah nodded hastily and paled when he stepped closer.

"I have an idea," he mused aloud. "Let's see if you can get into the safety of your room before I can catch you."

"Terrible idea," she murmured, taking another step back.

"Ready?" he asked wickedly.

"No," she whispered.

"Run," he replied quickly.

Hannah scrambled across the cabin, nearly tripping over a footstool. The natural roll of the ship pitched her forward and she nearly fell, but grabbed the doorframe and slipped into her room. She looked up and was shocked to see that the Captain had not moved an inch.

He grinned at her confused expression before replying, "My dear, there really was no contest." He walked to the desk and retrieved his log. Before leaving the cabin, he paused and bowed. "Tonight, we shall dine together," he smiled, "Until then." With that, he swept from the room and Hannah's thoughts were drawn to the several uses she had for the stolen dagger in her bed.

* * *

A full moon shone brightly down onto the rolling waters visible through Hannah's small window. She found that if she looked off into the horizon, she could see the faintest outline of land. 'Are we headed for that distant shore?' she wondered silently. Hannah frowned slightly and paced about her small living space. 'If we get close enough to shore…it may be my best chance for escape.' The rational part of her brain protested slightly at the thought of running away to a strange land where unknown dangers possibly lay in wait, but the concept of staying on the ship much longer seemed to be a much more pressing fear in Hannah's mind.

She glanced down at the dress Mr. Smee had graciously provided. While an improvement on the Captain's favored robe, the frock had clearly been cut with a more voluptuous woman in mind, making any decent coverage a challenge. Hannah scowled, 'As if that man needs any further provocation,' then shuddered when it occurred to her to wonder where the gown had come from in the first place. Upon hearing a noise from the room beyond, she hastened to hide the dagger one of the sleeves and rushed to the bed where she perched nervously on the edge, her eyes cast downward. As the footsteps grew closer, Hannah took a deep breathe and silently prayed for strength.

**Author's Note:** My apologies for an inexcusable absence, readers. I'll explain a bit more soon, but for now I'd simply like to say that this chapter hopefully marks my return to fanfiction, picking up where I left off so long ago. Thank you to everyone who has read Cruel Mercy and any other stories. Blessed be.

~Celia


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